Finally Home
by Phinneas McCheeser
Summary: Percy Weasley's journey - three things that made him leave his family, and four that made him come back.  Three-shot.  Spoilers for OotP and DH.  Epilogue coming soon!
1. Part the First

Title: Finally Home

Summary: Percy Weasley's journey—three things that made him leave his family, and four that made him come back. Small little three-shot.

Rating: K+ (PG) for slightly dark thoughts

Author: Phinneas McCheeser

Finally Home

Chapter One

Percival Ignotus Weasley was the third oldest child in his family of nine, and he had always been different.

He grew up in a large family. Granted, they had never had much money, but family had always come first. Family. It had been second nature to say he was part of the Weasley family, until he realized he was different.

Bill was the oldest. Percy remembered him leaving for Hogwarts—he was so exited to finally be going. He remembered Bill getting the letter before his seventh year saying he was Head Boy, and thinking that, in four years, that was where he wanted to be.

Charlie had left for Hogwarts a year after Bill. He was never Prefect, opting instead for Seeking, soon becoming a Quidditch star of Hogwarts legend.

Fred and George were two years younger than he was. The twins had been pranksters since the moment they were born—using the wrong names, finishing each other's sentences, always looking _exactly _the same.

Ron was two years younger than the twins, and he was just Ron. Percy had always wished that Ron would become successful and follow in his footsteps—even enter the Ministry, perhaps. Secretly, he thought that was all Ron was good for.

Ginny was the youngest, and the only girl. She was always doted over by Molly and Arthur, their parents. She was always far too protected, far too innocent. But she was too hot-headed to go into the Ministry. With a temper to match her flaming red hair, the girl would never fit in.

And that was all it was for Percy—fitting in. He had always wondered where he fit into in the rather large Weasley family puzzle. The logical answer was right between the Charlie and the twins—and Percy was nothing if not a logical thinker. But he always felt that his piece of the puzzle was somewhat rough and chipped around the edges, for his strict approach to life seemed to be constantly clashing with the easygoing attitude of his parents and siblings. Quite honestly, as soon as he realized this he began to see himself as more of a next-door neighbour than a member of the family.

Fred and George were forever pranking him. Ginny would tell them to stop, but there was laughter in her warm brown eyes, and he knew she didn't mean it. Ron seemed quite out of place at those times, often excusing himself to go upstairs or outside, occasionally laughing, occasionally saying nothing at all.

The truth of the matter, Percy felt, was that he didn't fit in. He was the misfit of the family. And there it was, all out in the open, the fact that he wanted to leave. Days of bitter thoughts turned to weeks, and in that time Percy managed to convince himself that he had always wanted to. And then he did the unthinkable and did.

Percy could remember every detail of it as if it were yesterday, yesterday and not weeks ago. He had been so proud of his new position in the Ministry. His father was not. The argument had followed. He remembered seeing his sister's eyes as if through a haze. They were wide open and scared—scared that their happy family would fall apart. And it did.

He remembered leaving, not looking back, feeling no regret. The only things he remembered were his anger—burning, white-hot, unadulterated anger—and his sister's eyes. No longer scared, they had been filled with a burning hate, and a clear challenge of sorts: You leave, never come back, and see if I care. See if we care.

He had run because he felt unrecongnised, leaving behind him a broken family that would never be the same.

He had been hungry for power and money. Money. The second reason he had left. He wanted to help them. Yes, he was angry at his father, but it had passed. He was earning money working for the Ministry, and he was saving it, some each week, for the day he would go back. The day they admitted that You-Know-Who wasn't back, and that Harry Potter was a liar. The day they would see he was right.

He had only wanted to do to do it for them—to make a better world. And when he was proven right he would finally be accepted, finally fit in.

The third reason he had left? It was hate, plain and simple. He loved his family, he supposed. Professor Sprout had once said that love just happened naturally in a family—though he supposed she was talking to her Hufflepuffs. So, if he followed that reasoning, it was love that made him leave. But he knew deep down that it was hate—for his family's ideals, their blind faith, and, he supposed, for them. Percy wrestled with these thoughts—they plagued him day after day, every minute, every hour. Did he love his family? And now, he supposed—because it was all suppositions, really—that he hated his family, if that was what made him leave.

Hate. Percy knew it was a negative emotion, but sometimes it can be well founded. His family hated You-Know-Who when he was alive. And he certainly deserved to be hated. It was a well founded feeling. Did his family deserve that? Were they like You-Know-Who? Was his hate well founded?

Deep down, Percy knew the answer. But it took a certain amount of bravery to face it. The Sorting Hat did say he would do well in Slytherin—he had ambition, and he didn't get into Gryffindor for his bravery. He had gotten in because of his family—and these days, that meant nothing.

**Author's Note **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling does. Out of respect for her, I decided to use several British spellings and terms in this story. Yes, I do know how to spell the 'American' way, and I know that the term 'snogging' is most definitely British. However, J. K. Rowling is not American, she is British, and I want to honor that. **

**I am also attempting to emulate her style of writing—if you're anything of a fictional writer, you know that it is near impossible to copy someone else's voice perfectly, which is why I'm not trying. I just want to make you think of the Harry Potter books while reading this. Jo uses a lot of semicolons and long sentences, so it was a bit hard, and I ask that you just bear with me here.**

**Next chapter should be up soon! (Unless you don't review… Then I will delete this story and no one on fanfiction will ever see it again! Muahahahahahha!)**

**There will be a magic time-skip before the nest chapter; chapter 2 will take place in 7****th**** year, GTST (Golden Trio Standard Time, hehehe!), during the Horcrux hunt.**

**Chapter One (Not counting A/N): 958 words.**

**-Phinneas**


	2. Part the Second

Finally Home

Chapter Two

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the blood.

It wasn't as if he could help it. The blood had been everywhere, wet and crimson and shockingly real. The blood of a co-worker.

It wasn't the blood that scared Percy. He had seen blood loads of times growing up—when he had almost cut his hand of with a kitchen knife and his parents had to take him to St. Mungo's, when one of Fred and George's pranks had gone horribly wrong and Bill had almost bled to death. No it wasn't the blood.

It was how real it seemed.

When Penelope had gotten cut over one eye, and the blood was dripping everywhere, but that wasn't his pain; it wasn't _real_. When he had almost cut his hand off, when Bill almost died, the blood was flowing and red and quite definitely _real_. Perhaps the reason this seemed so real was the fact that one of the Department Heads was holding a knife to the employee's throat. Or perhaps it was the tiny red trickle that ran steadily down from the knife blade.

Through all this, all he heard was the Minister speaking. Normally, Percy listened with rapt attention to the Minister's words. Today, however, he heard them as if through a haze. Perhaps it was the haze that made the words sound so threatening—but he never had been a person to exaggerate things.

"You have nothing to fear if you have nothing to hide."

And with a pang, Percy realized that the employee had been Muggle-born.

Percy shoved the _Daily Prophet _article to the side. A savage fury reared up inside of him. How dare they! Ron, his own flesh and blood, would break into the Ministry of Magic, the very institution he was fighting so desperately to save!

And they—for of course, Potter was involved—had the audacity to interrupt a trial of the greatest importance for no reason other than to free the accused!He remembered the trial—some Ministry employee's Mudblood wife was about to be punished for stealing another witch's magic. That was, of course, how all Mudbloods had gotten their magic.

Suddenly, the words of the woman at her trial popped into his head: _"I didn't steal the wand… I bought it at Ollivander's when I was eleven. It—it chose me!"_

As soon as he recalled her broken lies, he heard the voice of Ollivander, the wandmaker. _"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Weasley."_ Wands don't choose Mudbloods, he thought savagely. Then he recalled a memory of his fifth year at Hogwarts—before Dumbledore had managed to competely destroy it and it's principles.

He had overheard Professor McGonagall's voice, talking to Neville Longbottom. _"I know you have it in you, Mr. Longbottom. Your wand may be the problem—the wand only channels the magic inside of a person, it works much better if the wand chooses the wizard…"_

"_The wand only channels the magic inside of a person…" _The woman had proven that she was capable of magic—there was magic inside of her, and her wand… Percy racked his brains to remember whether the woman was under Veratiserum…

His mind spinning with thoughts, Percy tramped over to his bed. He was angry—at his brother, at Potter, even at the Ministry for planting that tiny seed of doubt in his mind.

It wasn't much. But oftentimes it was all you needed.

They had broken into Gringotts. Percy sank down into the nearest chair, which happened to be right next to the Minister—not that he noticed—and sighed.

All he could hope for now was that people wouldn't judge him by his brother. An all-too familiar sense of anger rose up in him. People had always judged him by his family—poor, easygoing, friendly. A guilty feeling arose in him as he realized he had started out with the goal of becoming the opposite of his family, but he had only thought about it as far as the 'poor' aspect went.

Percy felt sick as he realized he had accomplished his goal: he was nothing like his family. He had never been easygoing, and now he certainly wasn't poor. But he wasn't friendly. He was practically a stone wall.

People saw him as cold-hearted for leaving his family. They saw him as indifferent because he didn't hear their pleading cries.

And how did he see himself?

He was the ultimate traitor.

Percy felt a sudden urge to be sick in the hallway off to his right.

He had seen it. It was there, right under his nose the entire time. The Ministry had been abusing their employees—all the pointless trials, the hidden threats—and he had missed it all because he was so power-hungry.

The first threat? He might have worried, but he didn't know the employee. It wasn't his pain. The first trial? He had just ignored it. He was a Pureblood. But this… This was different.

They had taken her.

She had fought, but they had taken her, kicking and screaming and resisting all the while. He had stood there, horror-stricken, as they dragged her out of the hall. The last glimpse he had of her was her falling, finally unconscious, her blood-streaked auburn hair slipping down to cover her face. And the only thing he could think was: Thank Godric she's still alive.

He didn't remember leaving. But next thing he knew, he was in front of a Floo, powder in hand. Now the overwhelming question hit him: Where would he go? There was a Caterwauling Charm on Hogsmeade Villiage; no one could Apparate there without setting off the alarms… Hogwarts was definitely out—the stories he'd heard from co-workers were absolutely atrocious—and for a moment, all he felt was an all-consuming fear for Ginny, who would be at the school that very minute…

There were voices from behind him, and he knew he had to leave, before they reached him, because he was finally, finally betraying them, finally leaving…

With a wave of the recklessness that so distinguishes Gryffindors from the rest, he threw the Floo powder into the flames, and stepped into the flames. And he shouted, with all his might, all the fear and anger and fury that he had suppressed inside himself for months. "Take me home!"


	3. Part the Third

Finally Home

Chapter Three

To his extreme surprise, he hit the dirty floor with a _thump_. It wasn't the floor that surprised him, it was it's extreme dirtiness. The floor of the Burrow was always clean, unless—and he mentally smacked himself—they were away, and they would have, after the Gringotts break-in.

Someone's wizened hand was helping him off the floor and scolding him at the same time. "Get out of the way, sonny. Unless you want to get hit by the others."

Percy thought his face communicated his growing puzzlement quite nicely, but the man took no notice. It was then that Percy noticed his face—and the fact that he looked extremely like Albus Dumbledore. He racked his brains for a moment, and remembered that Dumbledore had a brother—Aberforth, he thought.

"Others?" he questioned. Aberforth frowned.

"Then yer not here to fight?" he asked, and Percy's heart lifted at those words.

"Yes, yes I want to fight! But where would we fight, and why am I here?"

"Here?"

"Yes, here. You see, when I Flooed, I asked it ti take me 'home,' but I've never so much as been inside this pub."

If Aberforth had taken offense at this, he didn't show it. "It was probably tryin' to take you to 'Ogwarts," he mused. "But they closed the Floo…"

He moved over to a painting over the mantelpiece. "You'll be wantin' the portal then, yes?" Percy, unsure of what to say replied that yes, he would like to take the portal. To his surprise, the girl in the portrait walked down the long hallway painted behind her, eventually disappearing into the distance.

"You'll get there soon, sonny. If you'll actually move, that is." Aberforth helped a speechless Percy into the portrait.

"Follow her, there, sonny," he said. Percy followed her, not sure of where he was, or of where he would come out, but sure of one thing: He was going to fight for his family.

Percy was eternally surprised when he came to the end of the hallway. There was a plain oak door, painted so well it seemed real, but that wasn't what surprised him. Rather, it was the fact that he could hear muffled voices coming from the other side of the door. There was a sudden crash, and he heard a muffled "Sorry!" His heart began thumping.

_He had to go through the door._

It made no sense, but then again, neither did the fact that he had just walked down the hallway of a painting. He reached out a trembling hand to touch the doorhandle. It wasn't flat, as he had expected it to be. It was round and hard and very, very real. He picked it up, trying to pluck up the courage to actually pull it. Realization of what he was about to do surged through him, and he dropped the handle from his shaking fingers. The noise inside the room subsided for a moment. _They could hear him. _

He grabbed up his courage, his Gryffindor bravery, his Gryffindor recklessness, grabbed the doorhandle, and pulled it. Hard.

All attention was focused on him, everyone's eyes, all on him. And he suddenly recalled the unspoken challenge in his sister's eyes on the night he left: _You leave, never come back, see if I care. See if we care. _

She might not have. But he did. He did, and he had done wrong, and he was going to make it right.

He had seen his entry in his mind—he would enter the room with his head held high, walk over to his family, and apologize. Fortunately for him, this didn't happen.

He came out of the portrait hole, and immediately felt all eyes turn to him. He tried to leave the passage gracefully, but it was rather awkward, and he found himself overbalancing slightly. He hit the ground with a small _thump!_ , and he felt his glasses crack slightly as they connected with the floor. He grabbed the arm of a nearby chair and pulled himself up, fighting the urge to fix his lopsided glasses.

Realizing that his plans for a graceful sort of entry had been crashed, he opted for a different approach.

"Am I too late? Has it started? I only just found out, so I—I" He spluttered into silence. Most of his family was there in the room—and apparently in the midst of an argument. There was a long moment where no one spoke.

Fleur turned to Remus—the werewolf, Percy remembered—and attempted to break the silence with an incredibly transparent comment. "So—'ow eez leetle Teddy?"

The Weasley family ignored her. Remus, however, was apparently on her side, as he said loudly: "I—oh yes—he's fine! Yes, Tonks is with him—at her mothers—"

Percy didn't even blink; his attention was focused solely on his family.

"Here, I've got a picture!" Remus shouted, pulling a photograph from his pocket and showing it to Fleur and Harry—Percy had heard he'd been made godfather—who were showing an unnatural interest in the color of Teddy's hair.

Percy could no longer contain himself. "I was a fool!" he yelled, causing all action to stop and all eyes to turn to him, and Remus to nearly drop his picture. There was no stopping now, so he continued. "I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat, I was a—a—"

"Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron," Fred suggested. Percy swallowed—now quite glad that his plans for a pompous entry had been ruined.

"Yes, I was!"

"Well, you can't say much better than that," Fred said, holding out a hand for him to shake. Percy felt stunned. Fred, of all people, was the person to welcome him back?

The feeling was slowly returning to his fingers. Percy waited for a second, then two, as it crept its way up his arm. He was about to tentatively hold his arm out in return (he was still afraid that it was all a joke) when he was nearly crushed by the arms of his mother. He had forgotten how powerful her hugs could be.

He heard Ginny make a sarcastic but well-meant remark in the background, and Charlie replied, and he heard George sniggering at the force of his mother's hug. The sounds of family.

He was home.

_~~Because home isn't a thing that can be contained in a word. Home isn't the eight-word definition in the dictionary. It's not a place. It's the people in the place. It's a feeling that will forever be indefinable because it's completely indescribable. And the best thing about that feeling is that no matter what you've done to defile it, it always welcomes you back with open arms. And then you're home.~~_

**Well, there you go. The last official chapter—Epilouge is still to come. Hope you liked it—I put all my blood, sweat, and tears into it. Really. I cut my finger on a piece of paper while writing and I bled, I am sweating because the bottom of this laptop is hot, and I cried when I accidentally poked myself in the eye with a pen. I am a true klutz. =D**

**So yes, please review and all that. Next chapter, I will officially be thanking everyone who reviewed and encouraged me with this story. So review!**

**-Phinneas**


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